Ora

Far from the buzz of High Street is an eatery, proof that the tastiest gourmet pleasures can be found in the smallest of places. On its Pakington Street perch, Ora has long lured destination-diners and savvy-locals with its push-the-breakfast-boundaries menu. The lunch fare is just as impressive.

Ora hasn’t faffed about with snazzy accouterments and lashings of trendy trappings. Here, the interior is simple: basic timber tables, Banksy-esque prints upholstering the white walls and a sprawling counter housing housebaked treats and coffee machine. With such a snug seating plan, it’s a given that others will crane their necks for a sticky-beak at your plate and there was a collective, ‘Ooooh,’ from our neighbours as our breakfasts were delivered from the kitchen. It was easy to understand sighs of breakfast jealousy when our choices were so good-looking.

From my experience, prawn toast has always been an indulgence plucked from the depths of a freezer and reheated in the oven. That doesn’t happen at Ora. Their spin includes velvety avocado, scattered superfood and more splashes of colour than a Jackson Pollock. A thick cut sourdough sliced, smeared with thin layer of pounded prawns, had been fried golden and crisp; one side coated in a blanket of toasted sesame seeds. Resting on one of the two wedges was a perfectly soft poached egg, garnished with a sprinkling of multi-hued quinoa; a lightly dressed cucumber, carrot and coriander salad sat to one side, offering plenty of crunch and bursts of flavour. A generous pooling of whipped avocado glued these elements to the plate. My expectations for Chinese takeaway have now been set astronomically high. Thanks Ora. On the plate was everything this hungry breakfaster could possibly want: sweet and salty, smooth and crunchy, rich and fresh, delicate and bold. If I could’ve eaten another serving, I would have.

Mother’s first mouthful of her tiffin egg gave way to a satisfied groan. Her plate was ticking the right boxes. The halves of one egg, enveloped in carrot and curry spices, were yolk up and dusted with crushed cashews. A tumbling jumble of potato hash peeked out from underneath; to one side was a splodge of unctuous kasundi. Everything on the plate worked in harmony. The curry crust on the egg was gentle and mild, reminding Mother of the days where she bought curry pouches from her favourite Indian grocer; Mother would’ve loved to have cracked into the egg at the table – the ultimate test in her book – but the flavour of the breakfast made up for her disappointment. A petite pile of just-pickled cauliflower florets were a surprising discovery, adding a welcome acidity to cut through the rich kasundi. It was the thick pickle that was the boxer on the plate, packing the most punch with spices that complemented those in the curry-coated egg. The only element Mother didn’t love was the Bombay hash: a mound of immaculately cut potato cubes that bulked up the plates offerings but didn’t offer much flavour.

In this years The Age Good Food Guide, Ora took out the gong for best food café. But don’t think that means coffee is neglected – it’s not. Helming Ora’s shiny, multi-grip machine and brewing siphons are former members of the Proud Mary crew. My café latte was sensational: strong and smooth and the perfect temperature. Mother wasn’t as impressed. Her long black – brewed from the Copacobana single origin – wasn’t to her taste. That blend had no guts and Mother likes guts.

Straight from the Mother We seem to have an uncanny knack of snagging the last table at an eatery and getting in before a stampede of other diners, who are then left to look on longingly as they wait for someone to vacate. That didn’t change at Ora: we had only just sat down before VOOSH and a cluster of people appeared at the door. My advice? Get here early. I loved the innovative menu and was tentative at the idea of having a curry and spice inspired dish for breakfast. Now? Consider me converted.

Ora
156 Pakington Street, Kew
(03) 9855 2002

Percy’s Aeroplane

Those with a head for heights should make for Percy’s Aeroplane, a Kew haunt that plies locals with custom roasted coffee from a canary yellow Ruggero machine – look up as you wait for your takeaway to spy the mid-soar plane model dangling from the ceiling.

With the front room at bursting point we jetted directly into the back dining area, tucked down the corridor and past the harried kitchen. Here, away from the immediate gaze of any staff it understandably took longer – ten minutes – to be greeted and supplied with water and menus. There’s also a homely courtyard for sun-seekers.

Wes’ favourite was not my initial choice of breakfast. I had originally hoped to try the Buxton trout only to be told they had run out minutes before. Bugger. Despite my disappointment I was happy enough with my fallback: sliced bacon, poached egg, avocado and an herb potato rosti – how could I go wrong with this failsafe combo? The only element that had me hesitate was the capsicum, anchovy and garlic sauce. I knew how strong these ingredients could be individually, so together, I was wary – I’m not particularly partial to anchovies – and asked for the sauce to be on the side. I understand how the dish could be Wes’ favourite – it just wasn’t mine. There was nothing wrong with anything on the plate: the egg was poached to bursting; the bacon rendered; the avocado creamy and smooth and the rosti boasted a crunchy outside and a soft middle. In small doses the emerald green sauce was enjoyable, offering a solid hit of salt that enhanced the flavours of the egg and rosti; too much and it became necessary to reach for the water. I can sum up my feelings about Wes’ favourite with one word: fine. Not amazing; not something I’d gab about for days; not bad; not something I’d warn my friends against. It was just fine.

Mother was having better luck on the other side of the table with her breakfast – thyme infused mushrooms, smashed avocado, dukkah, goats’ cheese and a poached egg. Percy’s Aeroplane are clearly fans of fungi: there were mushrooms aplenty on the plate, much to Mother’s delight. Each of the mushrooms was perfectly cooked, the soft flesh easily giving way to the pressure of Mother’s fork, and was delicately perfumed from the sprinkling of thyme, which enhanced rather than overpowered their earthy flavours. A glaze, quickly diagnosed as balsamic, gave a sweetness that further complimented the mushrooms. Anchoring the grainy slice of toast to the plate was the goats’ cheese, which, as promised, was exceptionally creamy; it lacked bite and sharpness that would have contrasted the other flavours on the plate. A small dusting of dukkah became lost, playing second fiddle to the mushrooms and avocado; the poached egg popped at the slightest touch from a knife, allowing bright orange yolk to spill down the mushroom mountain like lava.

Fancy something to read with your coffee? You’re in luck. At Percy’s Aeroplane a cup of joe comes complete with a short piece regaling the tale of Percy, his aeroplane and how the café crafts their bespoke blend. Mother’s long black was nice with rich notes and thick golden crema. There were three dried coffee drip stains on the cup, which could have been easily spotted and fixed with a quick swipe of a damp Chux. My café latte came with something extra: a chunk of old fried egg sitting in the spoon. I asked if I could please have a new spoon. Without any acknowledgement or an apology the beanied waitress snatched it from my hand, disappeared and returned with a clean spoon, which she unceremoniously dumped onto my saucer without a word. Her surly attitude and lack of basic manners left a bad taste in my mouth, which only became worse as I took a sip of my lukewarm and lacklustre latte.

Straight from the Mother Be warned: if you’re thinking of sitting at the large communal table in the back room of Percy’s Aeroplane, you’ll more than likely be asked to direct lost diners to the toilets. Several times. On a return visit I’d make to sit in the front room, where I can eye off the delicious looking cakes on the cabinet. I couldn’t fault much at Percy’s – except for the discourteous waitress who seemed to momentarily forget she worked in the hospitality industry when she leaned across the table with no apology and wore a look of disdain throughout our entire experience. She put a dampener on jaunt – a shame considering everyone else at Percy’s was lovely and friendly.

Percy’s Aeroplane
96 Denmark Street, Kew
(03) 9939 7642